Rush
by Kiyoshi Kitana
Summary: PG at best. Don/Charlie. Charlie has always expressed himself in strange ways, this is no different.


The first time Don kisses Charlie, it's Charlie who starts it.

He's trying to placate Charlie, in the middle of saying, "Hey, look, I'm okay," when Charlie grabs him, closing the distance between them. Charlie's lips are pressed tightly to his own, his hands firm against his cheeks. Charlie's lips are surprisingly soft and, when Charlie pulls away moments later, Don can see how raw and pink they are from the stress of Charlie worrying himself.

At first, Don is speechless with surprise – he didn't see this coming, not by a long shot, but he thinks he understands. Charlie has always expressed himself in strange ways, this is no different. Don could even go out on a limb and say he's used to it. He pulls his gaze from Charlie's mouth to his eyes.

Charlie's regarding him with a stern look, but there's a tell-tale flush high on his cheeks and colouring his neck. Don thinks his face might match Charlie's; he can still feel the ghost of his brother's heated palms against his face.

It seems like forever that they stare at each other, assessing one another. Don doesn't really know what to say, or even what to feel; part of him tells him he should be repulsed, because his baby brother just kissed him on the lips. He even gives it a good old college try to feel revolted, but can't bring himself to be, despite knowing that Charlie's kiss wasn't enacted mistakenly, either, like in childish experimentation – but with intent. If nothing else, that much came through in Charlie's actions. Don thinks that maybe he should ask about that first.

He doesn't get a chance, though. Charlie is the first to break the silence.

"Don't just wave me off and tell me you're okay, Don, not when things like this happen," he says, eyes flickering to Don's bandaged arm. There's a strained note in Charlie's voice. "Not when you're only a few inches off of being a chalk outline on the sidewalk."

"I...," Don starts, then thinks better of it. He _is_ alright, but that is obviously not the point. "Okay, Charlie, okay. I won't."

Don can see the tripwire-tight tension leave Charlie's body. A small, sheepish smile tugs at Charlie's lips which Don can't help but match in spite of the confusion settling heavy on his shoulders. Now what?, he wants to ask, but those words are parked on his tongue.

Instead he makes a remark on how starved he is, to which Charlie enthusiastically agrees.

***

The second time Don kisses Charlie, it's because he understands exactly now why the first time happened.

Charlie is crushed in his embrace; he's knows he's holding on too tightly to be comfortable, but he can't seem to make his muscles relax. Only quick reflexes saved Charlie from being another statistic and that alone is enough to make Don feel jittery and disillusioned. One second later, maybe even less, and he wouldn't be feeling Charlie's heart thumping a rhythm to match his own.

Charlie is looking up at him with a weak smile as he attempts to shimmy out of his grasp. Without any forethought, Don's lips crash into Charlie's, locking him into place. It's not pretty or sweet like the movies; it is desperate and unyielding and Charlie, his genius little brother, purses his lips to kiss back. Makes a noise in his throat like something clicked in his brain and the answers to all the world's mysteries were laid out in front of him, clear as day.

Don slowly releases Charlie's lips, slowly unwinds his arms from around his waist.

"I get it," Don says, watching as Charlie's teeth scrape across his lower lip. "I mean, yeah. I don't want to lose you."

"I know," Charlie responds.

It's as simple as that.

***

There is nothing strained about the third time Don kisses Charlie. Or the fourth, or the fifth. Don gives them now as easily as he takes them, and each time cements in his mind exactly why neither he nor Charlie have managed to set up their own white picket fences.

It's not something he's sure he could tell anyone, even if he could explain it in a way that didn't sound completely new age-y and metaphysical. He just knows, maybe more in his gut than his mind, that as long as Charlie's around, no one else even stands a chance.


End file.
